


Caretakers

by whatstheproblembaby



Category: Glee
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 07:54:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2143041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatstheproblembaby/pseuds/whatstheproblembaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sick fic in which BOTH boys are ill, for a bit of a change of pace. Thank God for Rachel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caretakers

“Kurt?” Blaine’s voice called pathetically from their bedroom. “I think I’m dying.”

“Coming, B!” Kurt yelled back, breaking out of a haze. He quickly grabbed all the supplies he needed in his arms and made his way back to his poor, sick fiance. “All right, I’ve got your towel-wrapped ice pack, your damp washcloth – with cool water, naturally – and your orange juice ready to go.”

“You’re an angel,” Blaine said gratefully as Kurt carefully set the juice on Blaine’s nightstand before putting the ice pack against his forehead and wiping his cheeks with the washcloth. “I love you so much. Whatever you want, name it and it’s yours.”

“You might regret that promise in the future, honey,” Kurt replied, cheeky as always. He took a seat on the scant space of mattress open between Blaine’s torso and the edge of the bed. “What if I ask for the entire new McQueen collection?”

“I’ll make it happen, baby,” Blaine said. He had practically melted into his sweat-covered pillows under Kurt’s tender ministrations. “I’ll rob a bank or something – I’ve still got the Nightbird suit.”

“You must really have a fever if you’re insinuating that Nightbird, your paragon-of-justice alter ego, would ever rob a bank.” Kurt said. He pulled at Blaine’s shoulders to get him to sit up a little, and flipped Blaine’s top pillow over to the cool side once his head was out of the way.

“Ohmygoood,” Blaine moaned once his head touched back down. “For you, Nightbird would probably kill a man or take candy from a baby or something.” He frowned at Kurt’s badly stifled giggles. “Don’t laugh at me, I’m sick.”

“You’re adorable, Blaine,” Kurt said as he braced his hands on the other side of Blaine’s body and pushed himself onto that of the bed. He let out a small grunt of pain when his stomach cramped unhappily at that, but thankfully Blaine sneezed at the same time and covered it. _You can get sick later, Hummel,_ Kurt told himself. _Right now Blaine’s got the flu and he needs you._

“Adorable enough for cuddles?” Blaine asked. He rolled over to face Kurt and held his arms out pleadingly.

“Why else do you think I climbed onto the bed?” Kurt fired back. “God, B, you’re so hot right now,” he said once Blaine had snuggled into his chest, face almost invisible from how deeply he’d burrowed.

“I’m hot all the time, I’ll have you know,” Blaine said, sleepy but indignant. “Now shhh. Naptime.”

Kurt couldn’t even get out a reply before succumbing to his own exhaustion.  
________________________________________________

Blaine woke up a couple hours later by himself to a dry mouth and a sore throat.

“I’d really like to be able to breathe out of my nose for more than two minutes,” he muttered to himself as he rolled over and reached for his now-tepid glass of juice. As he slugged it down, he heard argumentative voices coming from the area of the bathroom.

“I’m fine, Rachel, quit- God, when did you get arm muscles?” Kurt complained, voice growing progressively louder. He came into Blaine’s line of vision quickly after that, along with Rachel, who was half-dragging, half-marching him down the hallway back to their room.

“I’ve been lifting a little more at the gym, but it’s not that I’m stronger, Kurt,” she said acerbically. “You just spent like ten minutes in the bathroom puking your guts out, a newborn baby could’ve pulled you in here.”

“Kurt, baby, you were puking?” Blaine asked around a cough, full of concern. He noticed that Kurt did look conspicuously paler than usual, and seemed to be having a little difficulty standing upright. “C’mere.” Blaine patted Kurt’s vacated dent in the mattress.

“I’m fine, Blaine,” Kurt said, but he still collapsed face-up onto the bed. “Rachel’s just overreacting.”

“You were practically catatonic on the floor,” Rachel said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I think you barfed up like a week’s worth of meals.”

“I _was not!_ ” Kurt tried to retort, but Blaine had already snuggled up to his side and started rubbing his stomach while making soothing noises.

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling good, sweetheart?” Blaine asked.

“Because you felt worse than I did, Blaine!” Kurt exclaimed, wincing a little beneath Blaine’s cheek. “I honestly only started feeling crappy this morning, but I thought I could just power through it until you were better.”

“I told you that sushi was no good last night, Kurt,” Rachel interjected. Kurt’s answering death glare made her scurry out of the room.

“Baby, you can’t just ignore your own sickness because I was sick first,” Blaine said once she was gone. “What if we lived on our own and Rachel wasn’t here to scoop you off the bathroom floor?”

“I would’ve been fine, Blaine, really. Rachel’s a drama queen,” Kurt said, but when Blaine tilted his face up to look at him, he looked chagrined. “I promise next time I won’t almost pass out and choke on my own vomit on the bathroom floor, okay?”

“Mmm, you should include that in your wedding vows,” Blaine said. “To have and to hold and to not choke to death in a puddle of puke.”

“I think you need another nap, B,” Kurt responded, but he was giggling.

“Fine, but I wanna be big spoon.” As they shifted into position, Rachel came wandering back into their room carrying an overflowing tray of stuff and wearing a mint-green surgeon’s mask.

“Nothing personal, boys, but I can _not_ get sick a few weeks before opening night,” she said, placing the tray neatly on Kurt’s nightstand. “I brought you juice, Tums, cough drops, Mucinex, wet washcloths, and snacks. If you need anything else, yell for me or Santana because you are not to leave this room until you are one hundred percent better, do you understand me?”

“Oh hell no, I just heard my name attached to something I know nothing about,” Santana’s voice shouted from outside the bedroom. “I literally _just_ got home from work and I’m already dealing with Yentl’s harebrained schemes?”

“I’ll go talk to her,” Rachel said, turning toward the door. “Also, no touching me unless I see you wipe down with hand sanitizer first!” she yelled as she dashed out.

“Want to turn up a movie on my laptop and try to block out their inevitable shouting match so we can nap?” Blaine asked Kurt once he was a bit less stunned.

“Yes, please,” Kurt said, attempting to push himself upright a little.

“Nope, not you,” Blaine told him, pushing him back down onto his right side. “I didn’t just vomit, I’ll stand up and get everything.”

“Tyrant,” Kurt said under his breath, which caused Blaine to let out a laugh as he stood up.

“But you love me anyways,” he said, bending down to kiss Kurt on the forehead.

“But I love you anyways.”


End file.
